Seven
by plastic oak xx
Summary: Seven. Seven is the number that breaks my heart. (repost because something messed up)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Seven.  
The number of times I thought of _him_ today. The number of times I cried about _him_ today. The number of times I thought my heart would surely burst from missing _him_ so much.

Seven.  
The number of days since he left.

Seven.  
Such an ugly number to attach to such a beautiful person.

Seven.  
Seven.  
Seven.

I hate the number seven.

* * *

The first time was at 3 am, when I woke in a sweat, plagued by my recurring nightmares. I reached over to reassure myself, but _he_ wasn't there. As the tears streamed down my face, I tried to calm my pounding heart and ease the ache I had felt for the past week.  
I dragged myself into the bathroom and reached for the almost-empty bottle. There was a time where I could never have forced myself to take sleeping pills.  
Now I don't know how to fall asleep without them.

The next time was three and a half hours later, when I was forced out of a thankfully dreamless sleep. Jax, our rescue pup, was sitting at the door, scratching and whining to be let out. _He_ was always up by now, taking Jax out for his daily walks. I slipped on my shoes and attached the leash, wiping my eyes on my shirt sleeve. Jax looks around, looking for _him_.  
"I know bud," I say as I scratch behind his ears. "I miss him too."

Next was that afternoon. I opened my laptop in an attempt to catch up on all the work I'd missed. I forgot my screensaver was _him_. Tears filled my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from his smiling face. "Hi," I whisper, voice cracking.

I cry as I pulled out a Chinese menu. I've barely eaten all week. Its too painful to sit here, where _he_ used to sit and joke with me after a long day. I stop crying long enough to dial the number. On reflex, I order mine and _his_ favorites.

I cry when the delivery boy hands me the bag. He probably thinks its weird. I wish I cared.

I cry when I turn the television on. A rerun of his favorite show is playing. I turn it off.

I go for a walk. I do not know where I am going, but I know where I end up. "Hi," I whisper, sitting down. I know I should care about getting dirt on my pants, but I don't. "It's funny," I say, not caring if anyone is around to hear me talking to myself. "We've been apart longer than this. Remember when you were in California for two months? I was fine then." One tear leaks out, but otherwise I am calmer than I've been all day.  
"I think," I start, but my voice is shaky. I clear my throat and try again. "I think it's because I knew you were coming back then. I had the future to look forward to. Whenever I missed you, I just imagined picking you up at the airport. I knew I would be seeing you soon." The tears are coming faster now, but still I am calm.  
"I think this is so hard because there is no future to look forward to. You're gone, and you aren't coming back."  
I brush my hand over the stone. "I don't know how to live without you. And I know that's not what you want. God, I know you want me to be happy, but I don't even know what that is anymore. I don't know how to breathe without you."  
I am no longer calm. My volume is rising, the words becoming increasingly difficult to get out. "I just don't know how to live in a world that you don't."  
I'm silent for a few moments. I run my fingers over the cool granite letters. "Jax misses you. He's had to drag me out of bed every morning." I smile slightly. "He's taken to sleeping by the door. I think he's waiting for you to get home. I don't know how to tell him you won't be coming."

I stand up and brush the dirt from my pants.  
"I won't see you for awhile. I'm going back to Ohio to be with my dad. He's been through this and honestly I can't go on like this for much longer.

"So I'll come see you when I come back. I don't know when that'll be. Maybe I'll bring Jax. I think he'd like that."

I press my fingers to the stone one last time. I look up to the sky, as though he would suddenly appear. As I walk out of the cemetery, I feel lighter. I still don't know what I will do without him. But I know I have to try. God, I wish I knew where to start. With his face in my mind and the words on his grave in my heart, I walk home and for the first time in seven days, I sleep through the night.

 ** _In loving memory of  
_** ** _Blaine Devon Anderson  
_** ** _1995-2027  
_** ** _Beloved son, Treasured husband, Dear friend.  
_** ** _I'm never saying goodbye to you._**


End file.
